


Undiscussed

by hunted



Series: Original Works [32]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adult Characters (Aged 21 or Older), Age Difference, Anonymous Sex, Arguing, Banter, Bathroom Sex, Begging, Breeding, Clothed Sex, Coercion, Condoms, Consent Issues, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Don't Like Don't Read, Don't Try This At Home, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingering, Gangbang, Happy Ending, Hate Sex, Height Differences, Humiliation, M/M, Manhandling, Mirror Sex, Molestation, Non-con to Dub-con, Not Beta Read, Penetration (Front Hole Sex), Plot Twists, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Public Sex, Public Transportation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sexual Coercion, Size Difference, Smut, Suits, Threesome - M/M/M, To Be Continued, Trains, Trans Male Character, Under-negotiated Kink, You Have Been Warned, read the notes fellas, trans porn by trans author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunted/pseuds/hunted
Summary: A trans guy gets molested on the train, and ends up enjoying it.....This is a sexual fantasy which does not reflect reality whatsoever. Please read the notes. All necessary warnings are tagged, and the author is FTM. Do not repost this work elsewhere. I do not give permission for my writing to be copied.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Original Works [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1480958
Comments: 32
Kudos: 397





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The trans guy in this story has an age difference kink (note that he is an adult, though). He is also turned on by danger and anonymity. These are kinks which are normal to have, however, they should only be explored with partners that you have deemed safe, and with whom you can fully consent. I use the words c*nt and cl*t to refer to the trans man's anatomy, so if that will provoke your dysphoria, please do not read on.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> I do not condone sexual assault. This is a fantasy and nothing more. Please see [this article](https://metro.co.uk/2017/11/29/why-do-half-of-women-have-fantasies-about-being-raped-7099630/) to learn more about rape fantasies. The article focusses on cis women specifically, but is a good starting point regardless of your gender identity or sexual orientation. All kinds of people, whether LGBT+ or not, experience sexual fantasies. If you are drawn to rough kinks as a survivor of sexual assault, give [this article](https://www.vice.com/en_au/article/3k5gey/when-rape-survivors-have-rape-antasies) a read. People who have rape fantasies do not actually want to be raped. In reality, rape is traumatising, exhausting, and debilitating, and I am not disregarding the seriousness of those experiences. The imagined kink of dubcon/noncon sex draws on a powerlessness which is entirely within a person's control. Without safewords, prior discussion, and mutual consent **(between adults)** , rough sex can potentially be dangerous or traumatising. Do your research and stay safe, before engaging in _any_ kind of roleplay.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> To learn more about characterising trans men appropriately, please see [this guide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20475404). Just because I write FTM smut doesn't mean I condone the infantilisation and fetishisation of trans guys. I also write top trans men, as seen in [this story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857451/chapters/54631726), [this story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21667837), and [this story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079508/chapters/63431953). Not all trans men are bottoms. Not all trans men are gay. Certain trans men having masochistic inclinations does not mean a man would ever want to be mistreated outside of roleplay, and you shouldn't assume all trans men are submissive just because they're trans. And it goes without saying that, if you experience sadistic inclinations which would propel you to harm a person/molest them, you should go see a therapist. Just because dark fantasies can be engaged with healthily, does not automatically mean you are being healthy. If you think uninvited sexual touching is okay, you need to reflect on how deeply fucked-up that is. Fantasies are not an excuse for assault.

There was nothing that Lachlan hated more than public transport.

Poor public spending in his area meant trains were slow and frustrating. People were packed into carriages like sardines, elbows and shoulders and asses intruding into your personal space no matter how you situated yourself. School children yelled delightedly at each other while haggard businesspeople adjusted their ties, turned up their music, and prayed they could afford a car someday soon. Students, like Lachlan, messaged strangers on dating apps for something to do, or just stared out the windows with dejected faces and unfocussed eyes.

Lachlan was stuck right at the end of the carriage, and he was almost thankful for the forty minute commute ahead of him, because that meant he could delay fighting his way through the crowd of human bodies that stood between him and freedom. He sagged against a hard plastic wall, the thin fabric of his t-shirt not thin enough to prevent his skin from feeling hot and itchy. He was glad he’d worn shorts, wisely deciding against heavy jeans as the weather crept out from the middling heat of spring and into the blazing swelter of summer.

He was feeling quite good, the shittiness of public transport aside. This would be his first summer with a flat chest, his scars healed well after five months of applying an opaque, thick cream to his skin, gently rubbing the silicone solution into stretched pink tissue. Within a year so, the scars would be nearly invisible. He felt present in his body, like he owned the life which had previously felt burdensome. He was growing his hair out somewhat, waves of chestnut hair framing a newly angular face, bright eyes watching the world with an eagerness that he was still learning to appreciate.

Today he wore a long, dangly earring on his right side, the long silver piece a proud symbol of a homosexuality that had once been denied to him. He would rather fling himself off a cliff than wear a dress again, but a certain level of flamboyance was comfortable now, was inviting; he wanted the world to know that he was gay, wanted to dramatically embody the queerness which had once seemed so inaccessible.

So, there he was. A twink riding the train, enjoying the trivial irritation of commuting, absent the gender dysphoria which had plagued him for many miserable years. At least the crushing heat of the train wasn’t compounded by the stiff fabric of a chest binder. At least he could breathe.

At present he was pushed up against the wall, no room to inch free, praying that people would disembark before he had to make an escape attempt. A man was pressed up against him by necessity, their bodies flush together, a crisp business suit stiff against bared skin. The man was a head or so taller than Lachlan, dressed like a banker or a successful capitalist cog, holding a genuine fucking suitcase in one hand. In cute denim shorts and a loose top, Lachlan felt all the more young and small.

He stared straight ahead or at his feet for a long while, gaze settling somewhere around the stranger’s shoulder. He could feel breaths touching against his forehead, but to his surprise, it wasn’t unpleasant. The guy’s exhalations tasted like mint and strawberry.

The train lurched, turning a corner. Lachlan staggered in place, and the man swayed forward, their chests colliding. The man reached out a hand to steady himself on the wall, palm landing next to Lachlan’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” the man said, lips quirking into a smile, “They really need to improve these trains, huh.”

Lachlan nodded wordlessly, not really eager to make small talk, even if the guy was handsome. He was balding but still a looker, with an alluring face and a wide, expressive mouth. His chest was broad and filled out his shirt, the suit fitting him well. He wore the trappings of a capitalist life with attractive ease, Lachlan had to admit. He was the kind of man you would walk past on the street and not notice, unless you took the time.

Lachlan realised, as the train continued to chug onward, that the man was still pressed up against him. He assumed that the guy didn’t have room to move, but still, it was an awkward situation. The man’s trousers were taut with the weight of his cock, pressing into Lachlan’s hip. He wasn’t hard, but nevertheless, it was difficult to ignore. Lachlan looked to the side, clearing his throat, hoping time would speed up.

“You’re pretty.”

Lachlan blinked, shocked by the unexpected compliment. He looked up at the man, brows drawn together in a confused frown. The man looked down at him, unperturbed by Lachlan’s reaction. He smiled again, and his apparent eagerness itched at Lachlan, sparked some sense of danger that he hadn’t ever felt before. They were standing so close. A flash of heat sparked in Lachlan's chest, crept up his neck and nestled in his cheeks, an unnerved blush rising to his face.

“…Thanks,” Lachlan hesitantly responded, not sure what else to say. In the past, he had detested being called _pretty,_ but that was because people used that word to demean and infantilise him, mocking his manhood as being less masculine than a cisgender equivalent. Whereas if someone saw him as a pretty man, and presumed him to be cisgender, well… that was something else entirely. That felt good. Really good, actually. But he tried not to focus on that, and resumed looking awkwardly to the side of this stranger’s bulk.

Minutes stretched on, the train slow as ever. It repeatedly chugged almost to a stop several times, irregular maintenance guaranteeing a shitty travel experience. The volume inside the carriage increased to an almost deafening cacophony, hoards of school kids shrieking with excitement about various teenage things, businesspeople making phone calls and yelling to be heard. Impatience made everyone all the more irritated and loud.

Lachlan was gazing off to the side, almost having forgotten about the mildly creepy compliment he had just gotten from an unnamed stranger who appeared to be twice his age. And he didn’t notice what happened next, not immediately, because it was so unexpected– and he was being touched through circumstance anyway, someone shoved up against his body through sheer necessity.

When he felt a hand against his groin, he assumed it was an accident, brain not switching on immediately. But the palm stayed there, and he blinked himself out of his reverie, a flare of panic erupting in his gut as he looked down, seeing a hand pressed deliberately against his body, feeling the shape of him through denim. He looked hurriedly up at the man, frightened now, heart hammering furiously against the underside of his ribcage. He wasn’t packing today. The man smiled at him once more, eyes heavy with intent. The feeling of danger that Lachlan had felt solidified, deepened. He was scared.

“Stop it,” Lachlan whispered, “The fuck are you doing?”

He pushed the man’s hand away at the wrist, but the man just replaced his palm where it had been before.

“Take your hand off me.” Once again, Lachlan pushed him away. Undeterred, the man touched him again. Lachlan gripped his wrist and tried to pull him off, but couldn’t.

“I knew there was something special about you,” the man murmured, face close to Lachlan’s now as he bent down toward the younger man, “You’re different to other guys, aren’t you?”

Lachlan’s face flushed hotter, humiliation and excitement clashing within him. Fingers groped him through stiff denim.

“Get off me,” he pleaded. His knees felt wobbly and unsteady, his conviction weak.

“Shh,” the man replied, “You don’t want someone to look over here, right? Just let it happen.”

Lachlan squeezed his eyes shut as the man molested him, pressing his lips together in a stiff, trembling line. He couldn’t believe this was happening. People on either side of him had their backs turned, so they couldn’t see what was being done to him, couldn’t see some guy reaching between his legs and copping a feel. He knew he should shout and yell and run away, but he couldn’t even step to the side. He was trapped in place. And the embarrassment of being touched like this, of being made so vulnerable—he didn’t want to share this with more strangers. But, equally... as much as he hated to admit it, this was kinda hot. He'd never been the target of such overconfident assertiveness before. Complete strangers surrounded him on all sides. If they decided to turn at any point, they would see him being groped by a much older man. To his absolute shock, that turned him on. A lot.

Deftly, and without permission, the man gripped the zipper of Lachlan’s shorts between his thumb and his forefinger. The subsequent metallic sound was swallowed up by the chaos of the chugging wheels and yelling passengers.

"Shit," Lachlan whispered. "Don't..."

The man shushed him, continuing on without concern. Lachlan looked down, face burning. He saw a man’s hand slip into his shorts and below his underwear, the crisp sleeve of a suit jacket crinkling as it pressed up against the hem of his far less expensive clothes. He quivered where he stood when he felt two fingers curl inside him, smoothly and without hesitation. Surely this wasn’t real. This had to be happening to somebody else. Lachlan didn’t feel present in his body. He was standing on a train, getting a handjob from a person whose name he didn't even know. Fuck. _Fuck_ , he found that unfairly arousing. He cursed himself for thinking more with his dick than with his actual brain. He should be furious, should be screaming out in righteous anger. Instead, he was standing in place and letting this guy touch him.

“You’re wet,” the man noted smugly, lips against Lachlan’s forehead.

Lachlan wished he could deny it.

The heel of the man’s palm pressed against his clit, fingers rubbing firmly and deliberately, easing deeper and encouraging unwilling arousal. Lachlan was panting now. He could feel himself filling up, slickness painting the insides of his cunt, body hungry for more. He pressed his thighs together to keep his shorts from falling down his legs.

He didn’t know how many stops the train paused at, didn’t know how many people moved on and off the train as it halted at various intervals for track maintenance. Passengers were getting antsy, trading barbed comments about public infrastructure and worrying about their bosses. All he knew was the hand in his shorts, the thick fingers which were slowly fucking him.

"At the next stop," the man told him, "You're going to get off."

Lachlan shook his head, exhaling unsteadily. That would be many stops too early.

"Yes, you will."

"No," Lachlan began in a shaky whisper, stunned that he was negotiating this, "I have to get to class-"

The man dug his fingers deeper, angling his arm downward to shove hard inside Lachlan's body, causing the younger guy to whimper and slap a palm quickly over his mouth, afraid someone would hear. He shuddered, bowing forward, face pressed against the man's sturdy chest.

"You're going to get off this train. You will not run. You will walk to the public toilets opposite the train doors. You will wait for me in the men's room."

***

Lachlan could have run.

He was certain that he'd make it away from the man, could appeal for the assistance of nearby witnesses. He could flag down the police in a matter of minutes, get the attention of station employees. He wasn't helpless. If he wanted to, he could end this.

But he chose not to.

He zipped up his shorts and made his way through the throng of people, muttering quiet apologies for pushing past crowded bodies, face flushed and hair askew. He knew he looked like a mess, could feel the front of his underwear sticking to him, a patch of dampness causing his gait to be unsteady and stilted. He hadn't been fucked by this stranger, yet, but he looked as though he had.

He got off the train, breaths rushed and hollow. He considered a train attendant that was standing nearby, wearing a high-vis vest and looking bored. They had a walkie-talkie, one that could very quickly make contact with authorities. That moment weighed heavily on Lachlan. He knew he could escape, if he wanted. He could get help, could end this right now. He stared at the attendant, swallowing thickly.

The station employee looked over at him, meeting his stare.

"Can I help you?"

Lachlan blinked once, tried to summon the words. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. He didn't want to. He thought about thick fingers and a heavy, commanding voice. The excitement of it all, the lure of forbidden things.

"Are you alright? Can I help you?"

"No," Lachlan replied, clearing his throat, "I mean, no, I'm okay. Thank you."

He turned away. Spied the men's toilets across the crowded station.

He began walking.

***

He found himself standing by a sink, fists clenched by his sides, the hollow of his throat tight as he attempted to breathe steadily. The bathroom was relatively clean and plain, the mirror behind him clouded from age but otherwise sanitary. He had seen his reflection, had witnessed the shining mix of fear and excitement in his own gaze, and had needed to turn his back on that sight. This was too overwhelming. He couldn’t reflect on what was going on, didn’t want to see his features contorted with terrified delight. There would be time, later, to process the experience. For now, he just wanted to let this happen.

The door to the bathroom opened. Lachlan’s heart took off in a sprint, his breathing hitching with a barely-audible gasp.

The man appeared unhurried and calm. Taking his time. As though he had known Lachlan would do exactly what he was told, and had no doubts of his own dominance within their spontaneous arrangement. That infuriated Lachlan, made him angry and resentful. But it also turned him on. He watched as the man produced a key from his pocket, locking the door behind him. Closing the rest of the world off from their tryst, a premeditated action that signalled something quite worrying.

“Where- Where did you get that key?”

The man pocketed it and didn’t reply. Lachlan’s head was spinning. He knew this was a mistake, but equally, he couldn’t stop wanting this to happen. He was about to be fucked by a guy who targeted strangers on trains, molested them, and took them away to secluded areas to fuck them. That was totally wrong. And Lachlan couldn’t help but enjoy the thrill of how completely inappropriate this was. He didn’t know this creep, which made it even better. The fact that he even wanted this was incidental in this guy's mind. It didn't matter to him if Lachlan was consenting or not.

The man turned away from the door and, bending his knees somewhat, lowered his briefcase to the ground. He took off his suit jacket and folded it neatly, draping it over the suitcase. Still not speaking, he undid the cuffs of his suit shirt. Slow but purposeful.

“Do you have a condom?”

The man smirked in reply, wrist held up as he twisted a button free of stiff fabric. Lachlan was just glad he’d gotten a reaction.

“I won’t do this without a condom,” Lachlan insisted. He wasn’t stupid enough to consider Testosterone a contraceptive.

“Are you sure? Your standards seem fairly unconventional if you’ve willingly followed my directions.”

Lachlan’s face burned. “Fuck you.”

The man laughed. “I have a condom, pretty thing. Not to worry. I’m hardly interested in getting you pregnant.”

He produced a foil-wrapped square from his pocket, held it up as evidence.

“I’d say that’d be fairly incriminating,” Lachlan countered, feeling feisty now, “Don’t want biological evidence inside your victims’ bodies, huh?”

The man’s smile only grew, as though he enjoyed Lachlan’s bite. He unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock. Lachlan’s gaze flickered downward.

“Do you consider yourself my victim?”

“No,” Lachlan replied listlessly, stunned by the girth and heft of the man’s cock, watching as he took himself in hand and rolled a pale latex sleeve over his length. “But you’ve done this before, right? Groped strangers on public transport.”

“So what if I have?”

“It’s wrong.”

“Maybe,” the man agreed, condom stretched over his cock now. He lazily stroked himself, still grinning. “Is that stopping you from wanting this? If I’m wrong, you’re equally as bad.”

Lachlan clenched his jaw and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You’re a real piece of shit, aren’t you.”

The man laughed again, undeterred and seemingly impressed by Lachlan’s scorn. He strode forward, crossing the length of the room between them before the younger man could steel his nerves. He grabbed Lachlan’s shoulders and bodily turned him, shoving him towards the sink and making him face the mirror. Lachlan steadied himself, palms against smooth porcelain. Hair flopped down over his face, getting in his eyes. He tucked it behind one ear as the man took hold of his hips, grinding against his ass.

“Look at your reflection,” the man instructed him, voice low and steady, “Watch yourself when I penetrate you.”

Lachlan felt so humiliated. “Why?”

“I want you to face your own submissiveness. Admit that you like this. You like being cornered by a handsy stranger, being forced.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“So are you.”

Lachlan tried to squirm away, but the man grabbed his hip and held him in place. He was so turned on that it hurt, his cunt throbbing to be filled by the cock which bumped tellingly against the small of his back. The man was right, and Lachlan was putting up a fight just for show, just because he knew he would be subdued. The hate, the embarrassment, the danger. It felt good.

“Look in the mirror.”

“No.”

“Look at yourself.”

“Just fuck me against the wall. I don’t want to watch.”

“Yes, you do.” The man reached down to undo Lachlan’s shorts.

“No, stop-” Lachlan’s words dissolved into a groan when the man unzipped him, yanking his shorts down and underwear down in a firm tug. He felt the bulbous head of a thick cock rub against his cunt, promising the deep fucking he had been both threatened with and promised.

"Not like this," Lachlan protested again, "Not in front of the mirror. Stop."

He struggled just to feel himself being restrained. The man braced a strong forearm against his upper back, shoving him downwards so that his face hovered inches from the mirror. He crowded Lachlan against the sink, and then started to press inward, Lachlan's body widening to accommodate his size.

“Fuck you,” Lachlan gasped, lips parted, cheeks pink, “No, wait-”

The man pushed inside him. Hard. Lachlan whimpered, panting hotly, breaths fogging against the mirror. Inches of flesh slid into his cunt, his slickness easing the way for the violation. He watched his face contort, watched his reflection flinch and gasp. He couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt so good. He didn’t even know this guy’s name.

"Oh god, oh my g- _ah,_ oh god, slow, slow down-"

There was no stopping it. The man wasn't patient, which Lachlan supposed made sense; the type of pervert who would seek out fresh-faced boys on trains would hardly take his time forcing his dick inside their relevant holes. He shoved deep, grunting in satisfaction, causing Lachlan to cry out in protest or pleasure. It was difficult to say, when the two were so entwined.

"Fuck, fuck, oh- _oh,_ oh fuck, ah, _ah,_ ah, ah-"

A litany of sounds burst from Lachlan. The man took hold of his body and drew his hips back, then slammed deep once more. Lachlan wailed. The man did it again, thrusting long, deep, hard, and merciless. Lachlan gripped the sink, clinging to stability as he was rocked violently back and forth. He could hear trains clunking, could hear crowds of people murmuring and making their way through the station. He was being fucked in public, was being claimed with such forceful might. He was pulled back and forth, used like a sex doll by a stranger who cared equally as little for his needs. He knew he shouldn't enjoy this, shouldn't want this. But he did.

The man stood behind him, unmoved but for slightly harder breathing, eyes hooded and calm. He was so composed, smug as he fucked Lachlan against the sink. Lachlan hung his head forward and tried not to cry out.

***

He couldn’t say how long it went on for.

He heard himself, heard quiet whimpers echoing off tiled walls. Heard the man behind him grunting and growling. Lachlan’s skin became slick with sweat, hair sticking to his forehead and his temples, denim shorts and underwear falling to his feet. The vulnerability of that, of being naked from the waist down, was something he’d never felt before. He was wearing nothing but a shirt, wet cunt exposed to the air. The man’s hands were bare against his hips, thumbs pressing cruelly into the small of his back. He might as well be naked, yet the man was entirely dressed except for an opening in his trousers. Lachlan had never really explored his sexual side, never felt as much freedom as his cisgender counterparts. He supposed that was why he enjoyed this so much. He'd wanted a man to dominate him, fuck him, ruin him like the inexperienced boy he knew himself to be.

With a slender arm, one shoulder dipping into the motion, he reached downward to touch himself. The man noticed, inevitably, giving a breathy chuckle.

"You slut. Enjoying this, huh?"

Lachlan rolled his bottom lip below his teeth, bit down, nodded. He met the man's gaze in the mirror, stroking his small dick with quivering fingers.

"Dirty boy." The man's tie flapped against Lachlan's back, his shirt barely wrinkled. He moved his hips faster, pounding into Lachlan furiously.

"Mm, mm- Oh fuck, tell me- tell me that again-"

"Dirty boy. Filthy slut."

"Fuck, fuck- _ah,_ uh, fuck- I ha- hate you," Lachlan moaned, words broken and interrupted by the force with which he was being taken, "I hate you,"

"You love it. Maybe I should meet you every week, huh?"

"Oh, fuck-"

"Drag you off the train, every single time I see you. Bring you here. Force my cock inside your cunt. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Lachlan wanted to cry, wanted to come, wanted to disappear into the floor and stop existing. His arm was trembling as he reached back and touched himself, and his body was sagging where he tried to stay upright, face lowered down toward the sink.

"Yeah, you'd like that, you'd like that. Fuck, you're so _wet._ "

"Oh god, oh god-"

"Dirty boy, you want me to bring some friends over? Huh? You want ten guys around you, taking their turns to fuck you? You want two cocks up inside you?"

"Oh god-" Lachlan shook his head in an attempt to reject the very real possibility that this man could freely assault him on a regular basis, but it was too late. He was coming, sensations shivering through him violently and mounting into an all-encompassing, senseless, boiling climax.

"Oh god, oh god- daddy-"

"You like that, oh yeah, you like that, you want me to be your daddy?"

Lachlan sobbed at the intensity of it all, unsure where these words were coming from, why he wanted this so badly, why he wasn't resisting.

"Yeah, I'll be your daddy, I'll be your daddy. Come for me, boy. C'mon, you slut, you filthy whore, you piece of worthless little jailbait-"

"Uhnn, uh! _Uh!_ Fuck!"

With a shout, Lachlan came.

It broke him, shattered him right down to his foundations. He went limp, trembling.

The world was fuzzy and abstract. He couldn't focus, couldn't stand upright. The man fucking him didn't seem to care. He wrapped his arms around Lachlan in a crushing, inescapable grip, slamming inside Lachlan's pliant body with no regard for anything but his own pleasure. Lachlan hung helplessly, feet slipping against the floor.

"Fuck yeah, take it, take it, take it. Gonna fuck you every week. You slut. You _whore_. Fuck. Take it. Take it!"

It was so violent, so hard. Skin slapping, moisture running down the insides of Lachlan's bare thighs. The man pushed inside once, twice, and one final time. With a grunt, he buried himself deep, hips twitching.

When he pulled out, the only fluid to drip from his cock was the shining slickness of Lachlan's own release, the condom still securely in place. Lachlan was glad to know the pervert hadn't taken the opportunity to remove that final barrier, because he figured very few things were out of bounds in this kind of scenario. He had almost expected to find himself full of come once the sex was over.

He fell to the floor, panting heavily, knees folding limply beneath him. The man remained standing, zipping up his pants.

They didn't speak for a long while, Lachlan gasping, trying to remain sitting upright. The silence between them magnified what had just happened, the thrill of something so deeply wrong. The bustle of the station continued beyond the closed bathroom door. Surely somebody had heard them yelling, the crescendo of shouted, violent passion.

Lachlan felt fingers in his hair, a hand patting his head.

"See you next week," the man told him.

Lachlan slapped his hand away, rising shakily to his feet. The man grinned at him, eyes hooded, gaze heavy with power. He strode forward, taking hold of Lachlan's bare hip and crushing their mouths together.

"Mmf!" Lachlan whimpered against his mouth and tried to push him away, but the man kissed him deeply, and he was too thoroughly fucked to resist at this point. When the man leaned back, Lachlan exhaled against his lips.

"I hate you," he whispered.

The man chuckled. "I hate you, too. Slut."

"Pervert."

"Whore."

"Sicko."

The man laughed again. Lachlan suppressed a smile, amused by their fucked-up dynamic. He shoved the man away, hand in the middle of his chest. He bent down to pick up his shorts and underwear. He dressed in silence, luxuriating in the humiliation, fully aware that every movement was being watched. The weight of the stranger's gaze was heavy against his skin. He zipped up his shorts, the inside of his underwear damp.

The man walked to the bathroom door, unlocked it. He waited by the exit, their spontaneous tryst finished. Lachlan walked over and, with one hand on the doorknob to leave, paused.

"Next week," Lachlan told him, not meeting his eyes, "Wednesday."

With that, he walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!  
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> Here's a quick sexual health note. A lot of fantasy stories (including this one) depict spontaneous, un-lubricated sex as being without consequence or serious pain. But this is not realistic to the effects of Testosterone on the genitals. If you're AFAB, whether non-binary or trans male, you need to take care of your anatomy. Sex without appropriate loosening, lube, and foreplay can potentially be severely damaging. Please see [this article](https://www.sfaf.org/collections/beta/qa-gynecologic-and-vaginal-care-for-trans-men/) and [this page](https://transcare.ucsf.edu/guidelines/pain-transmen) for more information about atrophy when undergoing hormone replacement therapy. Please see [this post](https://ftmark.wordpress.com/2012/11/02/how-to-have-sex-with-a-transman/) and [this article](https://www.advocate.com/sexy-beast/2018/8/08/16-things-i-learned-having-sex-trans-men) for information about having sex with trans men. Lots of lube means lots of satisfaction, as dryness and tightness is a common side-effect of Testosterone. To any cis men who want to penetrate trans men during sex: take care not to assume that a trans man will want this (many of us don't wish to be penetrated), and don't hurt the guy if he does consent to being penetrated. It is very easy to damage the vaginal wall.  
> .  
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> As stated at the beginning of this story, this is a sexual fantasy which is completely different to real life. For what it's worth, it is not uncommon for victims of rape or sexual assault to become aroused throughout an attack. It doesn't mean they want it, it's just the body's reaction to stimulus. Many people think that cis men cannot be raped because they become erect throughout an encounter, for example, but this is untrue. If sex is occurring without the consent of both parties, then it is an assault. Anyone can be assaulted, no matter their demographic, and rapists are not exclusively cis men. If you have been placed in a situation where you couldn't freely consent, and sexual activity occurred without your permission, then I encourage you to seek support. Coming to terms with the fact that you may have been assaulted is a big deal, and not something you have to go through on your own.  
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> Fantasising about rough sex in a context removed from real life is not the same as experiencing something traumatising, nor is the experience of rape anything like a person's fantasy. Untangling your sexual desires and fixations can be tricky, and in all cases, I advise seeking therapeutic guidance to ensure you are your healthiest and safest self. Please ensure you're not turning to rough sexual fantasies as a form of self harm, whether in response to a past sexual assault, or in response to extreme gender dysphoria. Lachlan is a fictional character who is reacting to an unacceptable situation unrealistically. Being assaulted in real life is nothing like this fantasy.


	2. Chapter 2

The room was dim, early morning sunlight not yet penetrating the curtains’ thick fabric. Lachlan stood, fully dressed, in front of his wardrobe mirror. At his feet, a pile of clothes were discarded; evidence of the sleepless hours he had spent choosing the right outfit for his upcoming adventure.

He was considering himself, stare weighed down with the knowledge of what he had chosen to do. The intensity of his fear was matched only by his excitement. He never knew danger could feel so good.

He wore shorts once again. This time, a dark orange pair, which looked wonderful against the pale skin of his thighs. A black t-shirt, classic and well-fitted now that he’d undergone top surgery, baggy clothes cheerfully discarded since overcoming that particular dysphoria. His hair was out, loose and brown, framing his face. He liked how he looked. He liked doing this. Taking a risk, taking what he wanted. He liked looking sexy, liked the glances he’d get on the street from closeted men. He’d always fantasised about a guy pulling him off the sidewalk and ravishing him in some secluded corner. Now, he was getting to live out that fantasy. He was getting to be the slutty twink he'd always wanted to be. The danger fed him, fed his ego, kept him hungry.

If he told anyone else what he was doing, that he was willingly meeting a stranger and allowing him to do such intimate things, then he knew he’d be met with shock and concern. Rightly so, he reasoned. He couldn’t tell anyone, couldn’t discuss this aloud. This was wrong on so many levels, and nobody would believe him if he said that he genuinely wanted this to happen. He wasn’t getting back on that train because he was concerned about blackmail, or being threatened, or because he’d developed some twisted form of Stockholm syndrome. He knew how he’d react if one of his friends confessed to doing something like this. He’d be shocked, appalled, concerned, calling the police. But he knew his own mind, knew his body and his heart. He knew that he wanted this. This was his drug of choice.

He brushed a wave of hair from his face, tilting his head back and meeting his own eyes in the mirror. He watched the way warm morning sunlight fell across the pale arch of his neck, imagined lips against his skin, marking him. He was turned on by his own body, by the animalistic instincts he was surrendering to… and commanding. This was masturbation as much as anything else. Gleeful self-satisfaction. His sultry conceit mattered more than the random guy who had chosen to corner him and fuck him.

He felt powerful.

***

He got on the train. Stayed by the door, this time.

He didn’t see the man embark, so assumedly he must’ve gotten onto another carriage, and walked to find Lachlan. Without warning, broad hands crept onto Lachlan’s hips, a body pressing into him from behind. A face inclined against Lachlan’s hair, inhaling softly.

“You smell like apples,” the man murmured.

Lachlan swallowed hard, turned on by such a casual invasion of his personal space. The dominance of it.

“It’s a new shampoo,” he explained in a whisper.

“Did you buy it for me? So I’d smell it?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I’m not doing any of this for you. I’m here because I want to be.”

The man hummed, one of his palms sliding downward, fingers cupping the shape of Lachlan’s groin through his shorts. Lachlan bit his lip, held back either a protest or an encouraging comment; he didn’t know what would emerge from his mouth if he dared speak up. A woman stood near him. She was looking at her phone, headphones blaring some kind of heavy metal music. If she looked a little to the side, she would see them, would see what was happening.

“You’re here because you like this,” the man told him.

“Yeah,” Lachlan replied, “But don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh?”

“You’re just a cock to me. A piece of meat.”

There was a pause, then a chuckle. Their conversation was carried in quiet murmurs of sound, barely audible beneath the train’s rumblings.

“Well, I guess the feeling is mutual. Good to know my sentiments are returned, boy.”

“I’m not a boy,” Lachlan replied, “I’m a man. But I like it when you call me a boy. So, you can keep doing it.”

“You gonna boss me around, slut?”

The man gripped Lachlan tighter, fingers pressing against his cunt hard, denim digging into fragile skin. Lachlan felt a wave of euphoria, fear, arousal, and anger. The humiliation felt so deliciously wrong, so fantastically right. He tilted his head to the side, felt a nose bump against his cheek. They were almost kissing. It'd be romantic if it wasn't so deeply wrong. The train turned a corner, and Lachlan swayed backward, rocking on his heels, leaning against the man.

“Hypocrite,” Lachlan breathed. “If anyone’s a slut, you are. You’re the one who fucks strangers.”

***

Their stop eventually arrived. The man yanked him off the train, hand curled around his forearm. Pulling him so subtly that anyone else would miss it, or perhaps think he was a tired father escorting his disobedient son somewhere. Lachlan felt so sinfully excited, delighted by the powerlessness which he had invited into his life. Oh, woe was he. Poor little boy, molested by an evil predator. The ruse was simply delicious. Especially because it was so frighteningly real—this wasn’t a guy he’d met on Grindr, wasn’t a sexual partner he’d discussed his kinks with, negotiated terms. This was the most unsafe thing he had ever done. One hell of a precarious line to walk.

The guy shoved him into the bathroom before anyone could interrupt them. Lachlan stumbled inside, losing his footing momentarily. Metallic sounds hit the air, the door locking shut. Just as he was turning to meet the stranger’s eyes, a force hit his back, sending him lurching forward and then down, hands flying out to catch himself before his face collided with the tiles. The air rushed out of his lungs in a hollow gasp.

“Fuck,” he grunted, sprawled on his front, hair falling in his eyes, “You bastard-”

Lachlan tried to get his feet beneath him, but the man laid heavily on top of him, pinning him in place.

“Fuck you, get off me-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

They tussled, the floor cold and hard beneath Lachlan. The man forced him down, crushing him in place. He felt fingers tugging at his waistband. He flailed in an attempt to impede the man’s progress, hands flapping uselessly, efforts weakened by his eagerness to be dominated. Unfazed, the man seized his arms and pulled them above his head, holding his wrists there with one large hand.

“Stay still,” he breathed against Lachlan’s neck, mouth hot and wet, “You know you want it.”

"Get- Get off-"

"Shh, shh. Give in. Let it happen."

Lachlan panted as he was forcefully undressed. He turned his face, cheek against the tiles, body pounding with heat as he lay still and awaited the inevitable. His submission was noticed, the man's actions growing bolder and more aggressive. He heard the man unzipping, keeping a steady grip on Lachlan’s fingers as he freed his cock from his trousers. Within no time at all, the head of his cock was pressing against Lachlan’s wet cunt.

“Wait-”

“Shut up.”

Contrary to his whimpering protests, the younger man had suspected this might happen. His willingness to return, his masochism, his obvious arousal throughout their last encounter—all of that had been an invitation for the man to push the boundaries even further, do the one thing Lachlan had defiantly spoken out against.

“Condom,” Lachlan whispered, “You bastard, put- put on a condom.”

“Shh. Shut up.”

“No,” Lachlan pleaded, “Don’t-”

The pressure increased, deepened, lengthened. Against his wishes, he was penetrated. The man pushed into him slowly, growling with perverse satisfaction against Lachlan’s neck.

The man assumed total dominance, assumed this was an unexpected, terrible action. In itself, and in any other scenario, he would have been correct. But Lachlan wasn’t an idiot. He knew this stranger too well, was good at reading people. He’d taken precautions of the medicinal nature, to protect against multiple dangers. This was still a risk, but it was one he had knowingly taken. This man's error was that he assumed Lachlan was a poor, helpless, innocent little creature. But he had met his match. He just didn't know that yet.

Lachlan breathed hard, squeezing his eyes shut and trembling where he lay on the floor. The man continued to push deeper inside his body, forcing himself between Lachlan's quivering thighs. Prepared or not as he had been for this encounter, it was still overwhelmingly arousing to be taken on the floor like some animal, like some common bitch. It felt animalistic, brutal, uncompromising. Bare skin slid into him, carrying with it any number of dangers.

"Please don't," Lachlan begged again, "Please, take it out-"

"Fuck, you feel good."

"Not without a condom, I- I can't, I don't want-"

"Love hearing you beg," the man sneered, shoving deeper.

"Ah! Fuck, ow, stop, stop!"

The man let go of his hands, covered his mouth. Lachlan's yell had echoed throughout the bathroom, desperate words bouncing off tile and porcelain. He writhed, humming furiously, words muffled by a heavy palm.

"Mmm! Mmmm!"

"Keep your _fucking_ voice down," the man instructed him, growling into Lachlan's ear, "You want someone to see you like this? Huh? You want that?"

Lachlan sobbed, tears blooming in his eyes now.

“Yeah, yeah, you dirty whore, you like this, you like it.”

The man jerked his hips forward, rocking eagerly on top of Lachlan now, thrusting deep inside Lachlan's silky heat.

"Mmm- Mmmm! _Mmmm!"_

Every movement caused Lachlan to wail, fists clenched against the floor, droplets beading against his lashes. He was being held so tightly, pinned in place by a heavier body. He felt so small, so trapped. The cock impaled him deep inside, filling him so completely.

“Gonna fill you up, gonna plant my seed inside you, fuck, fuck you’re so tight,”

The man clung to him hard and began fucking him fast, rhythm punishing and deeply pleasurable. Lachlan's eyes rolled back, his mouth opening beneath the man's palm, face going slack as the stranger pounded him on the floor of a public bathroom.

The sex continued this way for a while, longer than Lachlan could identify with words. He was mindless, shattered by the intensity of it all. Eventually, the man pulled out, and then grabbed Lachlan's body. One hand on his shoulder, one on his waist, tugging him onto his back. Lachlan rolled over numbly, limp and pliant, eyes glazed and unfocussed. He was panting, cheeks flushed. The stranger tore his shorts and underwear completely off, yanking Lachlan's pale legs apart. With fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, he placed a hand beside Lachlan's head, leaning down over the younger man as he pushed inside once more. Lachlan gazed up at him, breathing heavily, trembling.

"Don't..."

"Look at me," the man told him, voice quieter now, yet still unwaveringly cruel, "Look in my eyes."

"Please don't..."

"Look at me, you slut. Look at me."

Lachlan did as he was told. The unbroken eye contact made him shiver, made the sensation all the more filthy as the stranger pushed inside his cunt, forcing his cock deep. Lachlan's thighs strained, knees shaking. The man's suit was smooth against his bared belly, his shirt riding up. They were so close, the man's breath brushing against his cheek. The tiles were hard and cool underneath his back. He was laying on the floor of a bathroom, being fucked by a complete stranger. The knowledge of what this looked like, what someone would see if they walked in, made Lachlan tighten around the cock which penetrated him. He imagined someone unlocking the door and finding him here. A poor, innocent boy, being assaulted by a hard-faced businessman. He was so turned on by the imagined scenario that he nearly came. He could feel the wet slide of come dripping from him, inches of flesh disappearing into him in a firm glide, path slickened by their combined fluids. The man drew his hips back and then forward, and Lachlan whimpered, lashes fluttering, gaze bleary.

The man fucked him. Hard. Lachlan choked and sobbed, but the man slapped a hand over his mouth, silencing his protests.

***

The advantage in being a janitor was that nobody paid any attention to you.

Mike stood outside the toilet. He wore a green jumpsuit, the train station logo stitched into the chest of the outfit. Beside him dutifully waited a cart of cleaning supplies. Eyes focussed on him for a moment, then slid away, disinterest apparent in the faces of every person who strode on past. He was invisible. Unseen.

His heart was hammering, throat tight with a toxic mix of anxiety and excitement, his breaths quickened by emotional turmoil. He could hear the sounds from inside the bathroom, faint but unmistakable, if you were close enough and knew what you were listening for. The boy's wailing, muffled and helpless. The man's grunting. Mike knew what was happening, what he had done by giving the stranger a key. He couldn't help it. He needed the money. This was only the second time that he was standing guard outside the bathroom, a _cleaning in progress_ sign behind his back, and he knew he couldn't keep up the ruse of an unbothered bystander. Not the way things presently were.

He swallowed thickly, turned on his heel. Before he unlocked the bathroom door, he glanced behind him, ensuring nobody was looking this way. As per usual, he was being completely ignored.

Fast as he could, he opened the door, and locked it behind him again.

When he turned around to face the scene inside the bathroom, the intense emotional conflict within him only strengthened.

The man was fucking the boy on his back, keeping him quiet with a hand over his mouth. The boy's eyes were watery and unfocussed, falling upon Mike with a listlessness that Mike could only assume meant he'd given up. It made sense, seeing as the kid had returned for a second time. He had known what would happen. Submitted to it.

"Get out," the businessman hissed, face ruddy with exertion.

"No," Mike replied, clenching his hands into fists, "No, I won't."

"The fuck are you thinking-"

"I'll expose you," Mike said, voice only slightly trembling, "I'll tell everyone what you're doing."

"What do you want, money? Christ man, I've given enough to you already. How much more?"

"No. No, I don't want money."

"What do you want, then?"

Mike turned his gaze on the boy, not willing to voice his request. The man paused, cock still buried inside the young man's cunt, and then laughed.

"Jesus, I thought we were in a spot of trouble there. You want a go at him, is that it? Fine. Just wait 'till I'm done."

"No," Mike said, the uncertainty leaving his voice as he became more bold, "You wait for me to finish. I'm doing it now."

The businessman seemed irritated at that. After a moment of hesitation, privately weighing his options, he slowly dragged his cock from the boy's body. That earned him a pained whimper, a quiet protest. It turned Mike on, arousal fiercely sparking in his gut now, cock pressing against the underside of his stiff uniform. Hearing the boy groan made him even harder. He couldn't believe he was about to do this, but he deserved it, didn't he? He wanted this, and he was going to take it.

He unzipped his jumpsuit part of the way, enough that he could pull his cock out. The businessman stood up and went to wait by the wall, fisting his own dick.

Mike knelt down before the boy, who hadn't spoken since he'd entered the room. He was pretty. Angelic, even. Such a gorgeous little thing, all laid out on the floor for Mike to enjoy. He waited for protests, waited for the kid's pained pleas. But nothing of the kind occurred. Mike could've sworn he saw... _excitement_ in those eyes. But surely not.

He guided himself inside the boy, huffing loudly.

***

Lachlan remained limp on the floor, doing little more than gasp quietly as the janitor fucked him.

This guy was more violent, rushed in his movements. He couldn't believe his luck. Another cock, completely bare, was sliding inside and out of him. All his darkest, most perverted, terrible dreams were coming true. A face hovered over him, mouth pulled into a snarling smile, eyes glimmering with satisfaction.


End file.
